everyone knows its windy
by Spontaneous Muse
Summary: Drabble dump of shikatema shorts written from tumblr. Various genres (and ratings); featuring Shikamaru and Temari in strange, foreign situations known as "requests". Will be forever labelled as complete.
1. Chapter 1

_Hey everyone!_

_I decided to create this as a drabble dump. It's going to contain only shikatema and will be of various genres. _

_I get a good amount of requests on tumblr so these are usually written there and then dumped here. If you would like to request, feel free to inbox me on my tumblr (url: therewithasmile) or PM me here! _

_I probably won't do much rambling pre-drabble like I usually do; just leaving the actual request as a prologue to the drabble itself. _

_Enjoy! Feel free to leave a review as well. _

_- muse._

.::[::]::.

[shikatema w/ "I like when you smile." :^)]

For once, the peace didn't feel artificial.

It should be a crime for so many shinobi to be off work solely because there _was _no work to be done. The days lazily stretched by, the chuunin exams had come and gone without a hitch, and soon it was time for jonin recommendations. To Shikamaru, it was obvious who would get promoted, but they insisted on calling him to the meeting anyway in place of his father (even though he had made a point that even _he _wasn't jonin, but the looks the entire council gave him sufficed).

And somehow, things happened with Temari. He didn't know exactly how it happened but things fell into place. When the war winded down he didn't really want to talk about the Infinite Tsukuyomi and apparently, neither did she, but both were super conscious of each others presence during the chuunin exams. When they'd walk together their hands would touch and it would be fleeting moments, but their fingers would curl together before falling away naturally.

They would eat at restaurants; she particularly liked dango so they'd stop by to pick up some dumplings. They would watch the lazy street activity together, idly chatting and speculating who they think were the best candidates. Before they knew it her face seemed a lot closer and they'd realize they were both leaning in, but they'd ignore what were probably danger signs flashing in the back of his head and she'd offer one of the dumplings to him, which he'd accept without a word.

Over the month, they had been asked how they were doing, what they were doing, if they were _more than friends_. When it came from Sakura or Naruto, they'd both roll their eyes and just tell them to interpret what they will. However when it came from Kakashi or Gai, there was almost a hint of sagely knowledge that they'd look at each other and just shrug.

Yes, he didn't know when it happened but they had both stopped denying it. Denying the connection they felt, and whether it was always there or just spurred on by the Infinite Tsukuyomi, the way they gravitated towards each other like it was natural.

Their relationship was comfortable, it was a perfectly ambiguous _not dating _but he didn't deny the butterflies he felt for her, nor the way his fingers would stretch for her hand, ready to take on more than just a few digits. Somehow that happened as well – they wouldn't hold on for long but when their hands _happened _to meet up again they would take turns initiating.

He frowned as he crossed off another day from his calendar; when Temari was due to go back to the Sand. She had stayed back a couple extra days to help Yoshino out while he attended meetings and organized new chuunin teams. When he returned home, the sand shinobi took him by the hand and dragged him right back outside, to his stuttering protests. To his relief he saw that she was taking him to a familiar rooftop, where they both flopped down and stared at the sky.

He soon found his fingers riding the dangerous magnetic pull towards her own, and as natural as it was to breathe, they interlaced with hers. They relaxed in a comfortable silence, his mind filling with only thoughts of Temari. Temari who had been in his dream, who is a part of his reality, and who meant more to him than he had expected. Temari who was currently turned away from him, but her hands were rough to the touch, but warm and still slimmer than any other hands that he had ever seen.

He didn't realize he was ogling until she turned to him. His eyes rolled over her face, memorizing every contour, the exact shade of her eyes, the way her lips moved when they broke into a gentle smile. He somehow had the privilege to be with her for the past few weeks, almost spending every waking moment with her. Now she was going home and this would be the last time he saw her in _who knows _how long. The thought kind of made him sad.

"I like it when you smile," he couldn't help but to blurt. His eyes watched as her mouth faltered, watched how a slight pink dusted her cheeks as her eyes suddenly fell, unable to keep with his own gaze. She chuckled lightly, her laugh rough around the edges but it was _nice_, somehow soothing to his ears.

"Are you confessing to me?" she teased lightly. She flexed her fingers against his before she unabashedly met his gaze, blush still evident on her cheeks.

This woman was something else.

He squeezed her hand.

"Nah."


	2. Chapter 2

_Relative silliness._

..::[::]::..

[I could see Temari having really bad problems with period cramps and cravings, and Shikamaru has to deal with them just as much as she does.]

"Fucking, fuck, _fuck_, always the wrong _fucking_ time," and if Shikamaru hadn't been counting how many times his associate had been hissing swears, he would have burst out laughing mid-meeting. He tried to keep his composure, but the Sand shinobi had progressed from small fidgets of discomfort into full-blown swears in a matter of a seconds, and he was soon forced to keep his mind occupied. Ibiki was _not _a man to mess with; so much as a snigger and he could probably whip that chalk right into someone's eye socket and out the back of their brains.

It seemed like Temari didn't even care for subtleties anymore as she shifted around in her seat before inhaling painfully. It was only when the bigger, bulkier, and hell_uvalot_ scarier ninja turned around with deliberate slowness, did Shikamaru tense as he could already deduce the coming conversation.

"Is there trouble there, Sand?"

If it were any other ninja, they probably would've backed down. Especially those who had participated in chuunin exams, when the Konoha-nin revealed his scarred head and the horrors he was subjected to.

But then again, this was Temari.

This was also Temari on her- "I'm on my period," the blonde said boldly, scooching her chair back with a screech and standing with a surprisingly commanding presence. "So I'm going to take a walk."

The Konoha nin blinked, along with the rest of the male-dominated council. Suddenly Shikamaru understood _why _they all seemed apprehensive, and they didn't protest as she took their silence as confirmation as she took her stack of papers under one arm. "I'm also taking him with me," she added, pointing a finger at the shadow nin.

Sputter of protests burst through his lips but one glare from Ibiki stopped him from unleashing a string of swear words that would have gotten him more screwed than saying nothing. The scarred ninja nodded gravely, almost as if he were wishing the Nara luck as he felt the back of his shirt collar being tugged on. _Are you kidding me, _he thought with exasperation, unable to fight the Sand nin who literally dragged him out into the hall.

As soon as they were left in silence, Shikamaru stood straight and groaned. "Really?" he muttered, not even attempting to disguise his mortification. She shot him an exasperated look as she placed her hands on her hips and leaned forward, spine cracking at the motion as she breathed a sigh of relief.

"Thank god, periods are _such_ a _bitch_," she exclaimed, shifting her weight from one foot to another. Shikamaru rolled his eyes and slid down the wall he had begun to lean on, balancing on his haunches as he exhaled loudly.

"Why did you drag me out with you?"

"Isn't it obvious? You're my _guide_," the blonde's eyebrows wiggled, though her teal eyes were near humourless as she straightened and tapped her chin. "I need you to direct me to a drug store, Nara."

"I gave you a _map_."

"And the Hokage gave me _you_, so suck it up, you're coming with me." Before he could even open his mouth to protest, Temari stalked off briskly. He could only watch in horror as she returned to the reception area of the chuunin exam building, her pointed posture all but indicating he had no choice.

_Woman's crazy_, he thought indignantly as he followed her. He briefly entertained the thought of returning to the meeting, but he had winced away from what Ibiki would say about _that_. He was a simple guy who just didn't want conflict – and it looked like the best thing for _that _was to play _lap puppy _for his escort.

_How troublesome_.

"What did you say?!" said-escort snarled suddenly, whirling around with such a vehemence that the shadow nin had already raised his arms reflexively to block any type of attack the Sand nin would've thrown at him.

"- Nothing! I actually said _nothing_!" He retorted, mentally wincing as his voice came out higher with panic because this lady was actually _insane_. Her teal eyes narrowed coldly as she picked up her fan from the array of weapons left at the reception, fastening it on her back with a scarily audible _click_. He gulped reflexively. That sound was never good. _Why is it always me,_ he thought again, trying to ignore the way she regarded him and how it even more diminishing than usual.

Temari sighed, the exhale beginning quiet but by the time she blew the rest of her breath, had escalated to a voiced groan. "Just watch your mouth, okay?"

If he hadn't known any better he wouldn't have picked up on her _special_ way of apologizing, yet somehow the shadow nin was already adjusted to the woman's gruff way of speech. He sighed and took the lead instead, the blonde falling into step behind him. As troublesome as she was, he couldn't help but to smirk as a new wave of expletives flowed from her mouth like a broken faucet, finding himself surprisingly entertained by the string of words he reckoned no Konoha nin had even _attempted_ to put together.


	3. Chapter 3

_In which Shikamaru and Temari are already dating, but are trying their hand at the long distance thing._

_also, this was written in present tense._

.::[::]::.

[Temari is sick and she gives Shikamaru a list of items to buy and he is totally clueless because it's a very complicated list. :3]

"Are you even _listening_?" she barely rasps, her voice ragged from sickness but otherwise her tone is still as sharp as a whip. Shikamaru grimaces because he really _didn't_, but he nods along anyways and tries to ignore the fact that her eyes narrow in suspicion.

Jeez, why was he even here?

It was a mission perhaps but he had received no prior knowledge as to why he had been summoned to Sunagakure. When the Hokage merely chortled at whatever paper he was holding, did Shikamaru decide it wasn't even worth questioning should he, the advisor, take a week's absence from his post. When he had arrived at Suna, the last thing he expected was to be summoned to Temari's side.

He didn't expect her to call him over when she had only done something as trivial as fallen _ill_. Apparently it was important though, because here she stood, mouthing him off, and though they had been together for a year now, he couldn't truthfully admit that he enjoyed being placed in this position much. (Honestly, no one ever did).

So as she sighs and hands him over a sheet of neatly folded paper, he nearly bristles when he realizes that he could've avoided the entire lecture should she have given him the list in the first place. But when she coughs weakly into her hand, her normally strong frame shaking from the effort, does his gaze soften and he gives her hand a quick squeeze. "I'll be back soon," he promises, to which she grumbles (kind of cutely) and hides her face back under the covers.

Leaving her house behind him, Shikamaru pulls the sheet of paper he had hastily stowed in his pocket out, smoothening the creases to read her script.

And then he realizes that he can't even interpret it.

His head whips around to the door he had just recently closed, a string of tactics and words he could say to his blonde girlfriend already at his tongue, but he swallows them back because he realizes that he doesn't want to deal with sick _and_ angry Temari. That in itself would be too troublesome. So was it even worth his time to get the decoding corps to do it?

_Ugh_. From the limited interaction he had with the decode corps back in Konoha, he had deduced that the language was more or less a cipher. At worse, he could ask.

As he walks through the Suna Marketplace (always as crowded as he could remember), he is finally somewhat able to begin building the stack of items he needs for her. His frustration grows as he decides that this list seems more like a grocery list than a \_I called you here because I'm dying please buy these items' _kind of list, and as he's picking out two apples, specifically two, he didn't know why, he wonders for the umpteenth time why he's bothering with the crazy woman in the first place.

Halfway down the stupid sheet of paper and his hands are holding two filled bags each, does he finally get to the medicine portion of the list. Even with the friendly help of the locals, the scrawled names of what he assumes are herbs and medicinal remedies are lost to him. He vaguely wishes that a certain pink-haired medical nin was available to help translate, but he pushes his hopes aside and instead ducks into a pharmacy to get substitutions.

_She'd better not complain,_ he thinks with a hint of aggression, because this was definitely not what he signed up for and _not_ what he spent three days travelling for. _I'm doing my best for her, after all._

* * *

"What the _hell_ are these," she mutters as she sifts through the bags of groceries. He can't help but to roll his eyes and sigh, though her souring expression is enough to cut his moment of indulgence and instead be at her side. "_Vitamins?_" she questions incredulously, shaking the innocent white bottle between two slim fingers.

He sits down on the edge of the bed as the blonde tosses the bottle back into the bag before rifling through it some more. "Jeez, Shikamaru," she breathes, her tone equally teasing yet also somewhat furious and the shadow nin pins the blame on her illness.

"It helps if you wrote it in a language I could understand," he quips as she picks up another bottle, her lip sliding into a pensive pout. He rolls her eyes as she swats weakly at his arm, stating furiously that she was too _damn sick _to bother trying to translate languages. He ignores the obvious argument that would have defended him, instead giving the sand nin the benefit of the doubt as she coughs again into a hand. He feels a bit of pity for her now, but as if she senses it she looks up sharply, and though her eyes are clouded with sickness she still fights past them to focus her sight on the shadow nin.

"Sorry," Temari says softly, sincerely, and Shikamaru swears he can hear his heart thump in his ears as the tanner shinobi blushes before reclining back into her bed. Her eyes close and he pushes stray locks of hair off her face, her skin is tinged with sweat but he doesn't mind, and he pulls the blankets to properly cover her shoulders.

"I'll make you something to eat," he says softly. She makes a small noise of assertion. "And I'm getting you water." She nods. "Keep the covers on." She sounds a little grumpier now, only humming in response. "I can also get you a wet towel," he says with a grin. She makes the same sound again, now disgruntled. "And take one of the vitamins anyway, it won't hur-"

"_Just go already,_" Temari growls with sudden conviction, the konoha native chuckling as he ducks to avoid the flying groceries that otherwise would have hit him dead in the face.


	4. Chapter 4

_Happy 4th of July! I'm releasing a couple of new chapters to things today as I'm moving tomorrow, so I don't know what my internet situation will be just yet. For this fic, this is something that I have that isn't long and angsty, but hopefully this will tide you over before I get back to updating!_

_This one came from a one sentence/word prompt thing. This is purely a drabble; short and sweet. _

_I had originally written it in Shika's perspective before I axed that and switched to Temari's. It might be a bit confusing. _

_This one is older - one of the few things I've written since I got back into the swing of things. It might come off that way, too. _

_Enjoy!_

.::[::]::.

**[74 - **_are you challenging_ me?**]**

Long inhale in, even longer exhale out. "Why do you keep doing this?" he drawled. His eyes opened, squinting slightly in the harsh morning light. He sighed and shrugged the closed fan away from his neck – a feat in itself, Temari noted, seeing as the fan was easily as tall as his chest.

"I'm not going to stop until you accept, Nara," was her scathing reply. She could see his lip curl as the usual annoyance began to sink into not only his posture, but in his voice.

"But you're not gonna win," he tried to reason. Temari laughed mockingly. He didn't even bother sitting up, he merely closed his eyes again. She vaguely resisted the temptation to squash his face with her weapon, but instead shrugged and prodded the side of his neck.

"How would I know? We haven't fought –"

"Except for the one time I won," he cut in, to her annoyance.

"- Since the _chuunin exams_," her teal eyes glinted as she chose her words carefully. The sun caught her blonde locks, extending down to her wicked grin as she tapped the edge of her fan against his neck. He grumbled in response. "And I'm _sure _I can kick your ass this time."

"You've said that before," Shikamaru said lazily. She couldn't help the hiss that escaped her teeth but he merely rolled away from her, sitting up before locking eyes with her. She felt as if her gaze had been captured by his own, steady stare, but that didn't mean the flow of swears and utters of challenges was stopped at all. Her mind flew to ways he could motivate him to fight – he wasn't easy to move.

Temari knew her words were falling onto deaf ears but she suddenly froze when she felt a strange coldness draining her of her body heat. When she looked down, she cursed as she noticed black shadowy tendrils crawling its way up her torso. "You sure can kick my ass, but you also fall for the same tricks twice," said the infuriatingly lazy voice, though it was edged with mischief and a little amusement.

Constricted, she shot him her best death-glare. "Shut up Nara, you haven't won yet."

He smirked as a response before he swiftly pressed his lips against her. At the contact she felt herself fall limp despite her better judgement, and as he pulled away, she found her usual insults caught in her throat.

"Checkmate," he whispered, his breath feathering against her lips. She couldn't help the flush that flew up to her cheeks, nor the curse that escaped her lips yet again as she found herself restricted and unable to move.

"Shikamaru, _let me go_!"

He merely walked away, throwing a hand up in a wave. He turned around and smirked. "Don't bother trying to challenge me again – you know I'll win.

Besides, don't you only call me Shikamaru in-"

Her abrupt and horrified scream of _"Shut UP!" _ was more than enough to cover the rest of his sentence.


	5. Chapter 5

_Trying my hand at conveying new emotions. The two of them will see more familiar than usual, but they both don't notice it. Ghosts of their dreams, I suppose. _

_This also kinda came out angsty. Whoops._

_Also enjoy Shikamaru's unresolved sexual tension. I will probably write more fics like this on a later date._

.::[::]::.

[When Shika wakes up and the first person he sees is Temari. They pester each other for being weak and they tend the other's injuries. Slowly the truth of Shika's dream comes out.]

He groggily opens his eyes. The lids stick together as if he had been in a long, deep sleep. He might as well have been, he thinks, for he doesn't really remember why he's in the middle of a torn battlefield, lying on a mat, nor why his head is throbbing, when it feels like he had lived out an eternity.

The world seems blurry, unfocused; he wearily raises hands – hands that when he last looked at them, were beginning to wrinkle with age, but are now considerably softer and belonged to a seventeen year old. He rubs his eyes with the back of his knuckles. His jaw cracks into a yawn as he stretches, sore muscles aching as he groans both in pain and in satisfaction.

He slowly, finally, opened his eyes and, with a sharp inhale, focuses on the environment around him.

The first person he sees is her.

She's still on the mat by him, her hair pulled into the four pigtails he had almost forgotten about. He was used to seeing her hair _down_, something she'd eventually grow out of. She was smaller than he remembered; slighter, too. And she was propping herself up with her arms, but otherwise she looked just as tired as he did.

Who knows how long they were stuck in that dream?

He goes to get up but his muscles scream in protest, as if he had forgotten how to use them. Instead he sits hesitantly, trying to soothe feeling back into them. Instead he inspects what he's wearing and grimaces – they had changed him out of his uniform and into clean jacket. He ignores this and instead drags his head back up. He sees hers lift slowly, and he doesn't realize he's holding in a breath until her chin tilts up.

Their eye contact is electrifying.

It was like he had never seen teal before.

And he might as well hadn't, he thinks, because those eyes in his dream held nothing, _nothing_, to the beautiful colours hers were. Even though they're twisted in confusion, they shine like he had never seen before – or rather, they always _did_ have a shine, just one he couldn't notice or appreciate.

They both don't seem content to break the contact.

So instead he pushes his fingers through his hair and he sighs. They aren't that far apart from each other, in fact perhaps crawling distance from each other. He pushes himself towards her, something about this disposition embarrassing to him but he ignores it, and ends up beside her.

He fights the urge to stroke her cheek.

She looks up at him, her eyes a little guarded but somehow warm, her lips soft and parted in momentary confusion before she breaks into a small smile. "S-Shikamaru," she says quietly, before she coughs once, her tanned cheeks dusting red as she tries to prevent her voice from cracking. He can't help but to find it endearing, put then he frowns because he realizes that this familiarity, while not artificial, is only _truly _spurred on by his dreams.

He wants to do with her what he had been doing to her in his dreams – to hold her hand, cup her cheek – but as she swallows and tries to regain control of her voice, he does the same with his feelings. _This is going to be more troublesome than I thought_, he thinks. She sits up groggily, stretching each leg delicately, before she looks at him again and cracks her neck. "I've never felt this stiff before."

"I know how you feel," he responds. As it is, words are hard to find for him, something that he thought he'd since resolved. It was like he was back to being a bumbling thirteen year old, unsure of what to say in case he put her off.

She grins. "You're not about to cry, are you?"

He rolls his eyes. "No, not really."

He doesn't miss when her eyes soften. She rolls her weight forward and somehow manages to partially get up. He's somewhat astounded because his muscles are_ still_ groaning, but of course, Temari's definitely more athletically fit than he is, and soon she's behind him, giving his shoulder a quick chop.

"You're remarkable," he grumbles as he rubs the pained area with a frown. She's chuckling behind him but he misses her blush. "It's no wonder such a terrifying kunoichi can move so quickly while the rest of us are even trying to will the power to move our legs."

The voice she uses is rough, rougher than the Temari in his dream but is otherwise still somehow bracing. "Not all of us are weaklings."

He allows a scoff to pass through his lips as she kneels down. "I thought we were over this," he says as her fingers begin to skim along his neck. He shivers at the touch and it feels stupidly _familiar_. He's not sure if it's because she's going through the same as he is, the strange ghostly feeling of intimacy left from his dream, but whatever the reason it relaxes him. "I'm not fourteen anymore."

"Thank God for that," she whispers, so quiet he almost misses it but she suddenly pauses as her fingers dance along the base of his neck. Her tone is darker, as if steeled, as she says with more conviction, "I never did get a chance to make sure you were okay when you-"

Her voice trails off.

But for some reason he's able to pick up on the nuance, and he knows it's not because of his intellect. It seriously feels like he had known her for a lifetime: his brain must've been always picking up on her signals and triggers because her genjutsu-self had them narrowed to a tee. He can't help but to grin. "Who's the weak one now?"

"Shut up," she rebuts, but there is frustration in her tone. There is a pause and she begins to ease his jacket off – one he doesn't remember putting on but after they all got rescued from the immediate battlefield once they were released from the genjutsu, the immediate medical team must've changed everyone's clothes. He lets the fabric slide off the shoulder and he feels her breath feather against the contours of his skin. "I… I saw you go down. I thought you died." Her voice catches in her throat and she swallows. She comes across louder now, less hesitant. "But you're still here. I thought I had lost someone else who's close to me."

He didn't miss her words but he doesn't really acknowledge it – perhaps this strange familiarity he felt towards her really _was_ messing with his mind – but the rest of his phrase affects him all the same. "I…" he trails off, unsure.

When Asuma had first passed, he had at first felt numb. It took coaxing from his father for him to come to terms with how he truly felt.

But now his dad was gone too.

There were no tears, _yet_. But as she begins to rub his back (again with that strange sense of familiarity and comfort), he can feel a lump in his throat. He feels it starting but he fiercely tries to swallow it down, trying to instead focus his thoughts on the way his body reacted to every single feathered touch; every single sensation she left along his spine.

"I've been lucky," she whispers, her breath on his neck now. Her voice is soft, soothing, and he remembers that primarily before being a shinobi, she was a sister and in a way, surrogate mother. "I lost them when I was young. And there has been relative peace – some scares, sure – but peace. And it's thanks to you guys from Konoha." Her voice truly was soothing, when she wasn't mouthing off someone. And for when it felt like he had spent _years_ just listening to her voice, he feels emotional. Maybe it's because he knows the _comfort_ of it all was a fabrication (or perhaps, less of a fabrication than he'd like to think), or maybe it's because _everything_ was catching up to him at last.

He feels a tear well up in his eye.

"So thanks," she murmurs. He feels the tear break away despite his attempts. Another one follows. He half waits for her to comment and he swears he can sense her mouth open to do so, but instead it close. She instead wraps her arms around his waist, carefully, almost hesitantly. It feels _right_, warm and comforting, as if his body had been craving what his mind was feeding him.

He holds her there.

"I still have you," he manages as his breaths start to come up short. She stiffens but he _knows_ she understood the weight of his words. She doesn't pull away, however. Questions are on both of their minds, but they had time. There is peace. Whilst it may not be the perfect eternity that had played out in his head, they have each other.

He doesn't keep track of how long they remain here, her arms around him, tears rolling silently down his cheeks.


	6. Chapter 6

_This was super short because lazy, but it's cute and hopefully just something we can all fawn over. _

.::[::]::.

[Shikatema being super affectionate (for them) with each other when no one is around.]

His hand mindlessly played with her hair as she relaxed on his lap. Their conversation had lulled, instead the two of them enjoyed the mid-summer breeze. She turned a flower in her hands, her fingers caressing the petals, her breaths coming in low and relaxed. It was calming, seeing as these moments were often missed because she was either scolding someone or yelling at him.

He sighed at the thought.

"What?" She asked as she tilted her head up to catch his eye. He can't help but to think of her to be cute, with her lips parted as her eyes, normally edged with some kind of emotion (and not a good one), instead a mild teal as she wasn't teetering on extremes.

"Nothing," he replied as his hand returned to the blonde locks. They fall into silent contentment, he soon found himself brushing his fingers into her hair, smoothing what was recently tied in ponytails back down to their natural state.

She sighed and closed her eyes, setting the flower off to the side as one hand reached up to his face. He allowed her palm to cup his cheek. Her fingers traced his jaw and ran up his chin before resting on his lips. He can't help the smile that breaks on his lips as she smiled too.

He mindlessly tucked a stray strand of blonde hair behind her face and she shifted underneath him, propping herself up with her chest. Her fingers caught his chin and pulled him forward, downward.

He can feel the heat from her lips, the magnetic pull begging for him to close the contact, but they both freeze when they hear a door slide open. "_Maaaaaaaam," _whines a voice, hiccuping lightly as it tried to swallow tears. "_Oniichan is bullying me again-" _

He winced as his wife rolled her weight on a particularly uncomfortable spot. She flashed him a brief, apologetic smile, before her eyes positively steeled with rage. He swore her hair rose and fire began to emit from her posture as she stomped past their toddler daughter.

"_Shika-!" _Her voice cut off when she slammed the screen door behind her. Their daughter blinked and instead ran up to her father, scrambling on his lap. He sighed and brushed his thumbs on her cheeks, wiping away the moisture. She nuzzled contentedly into his chest as he ran his fingers through her dark locks, beginning to pull them into braids.

_She is still such a troublesome woman. _He can hear her yelling, the words lost as they were drowned out, and he swore he could also hear hastened apologies. _But I guess I'm the one who married her._


	7. Chapter 7

_I've been itching to post this one, so I'm releasing this earlier than scheduled because I like to crush hearts._

_Alright guys, this is the first true angst that I've uploaded for Shikatema. _

_This is going to get heavy, really fast. _

_I apologize for possible inaccurate portrayals of addiction; I have never been addicted to any substance so I do not know the particular effects. I also likened Shikamaru's addiction more towards harder drugs, I presume._

_The formatting is key to this piece - I apologize if it turns you off at first. (It's kind of supposed to.)_

_Let me know what you think._

_- muse _

.::[::]::.

[shikatema, trying to get shika to quit smoking]

He could feel her eyes on him, but he ignored her. Again.

He ignored the way she glared daggers into his back, especially when he turned around and leaned in to get his lighter going.

Her voice was cold, curt.

"I thought you had quit."

He ignored her.

She didn't take lightly to that. "That's not good for your health."

He got the flame going.

His hand reached into his pocket, pulling out the package slowly. Her hand caught his.

"I'm serious, Nara."

"Can you lay off," he grumbled, trying to shake her off him. Seriously, she was so damn _troublesome_, and even though he _thought _he had allowed generous amounts of finality to his tone, she didn't take the hint, because she snatched the package out of his hands.

"No, I can't." Her eyes are dark, the usual teal dulled down to a grey. He looked at her frame, one that he often desired, but this time it was different. Her stance was aggressive and for once, he felt like matching it. She held the package away, her lip curved into a frown.

He groaned. It was already too long from his last drag, his stomach prickling and that stupid _feeling_ beginning to snake the way up his esophagus. He held his hand out – patiently, in hopes of her responding – but she glared at the palm, glared at his arm, glared at _him_, as she held the package away with a bit of a sneer. "Stop this."

He drew a breath through his nose. It was beginning to _gnaw _at him, eating away at him. He felt familiar feelings beginning to claw its way into his brain; the anxiety, the nervousness, the guilt and strange _agitatedness _that he desperately wanted to quash. He focused to keep his voice from trembling, as he deadpanned, "This really isn't your business, Temari."

He doesn't bother registering the hurt that flashes in her eyes, nor the voice in his head that was telling him that she was right and hell, at least she cared, because Chouji said nothing when he'd pull up a smoke, though he'd exchange concerned looks with Ino. Concern – like he was a child who still needed looking after.

Who was he kidding? He still needed looking after. He couldn't save anyone, he couldn't stop his father from dying nor Asuma, he couldn't possibly shoulder the responsibilities of his clan whilst he could barely stop his mother from yelling at him. Except she, too, was in shock – he'd see her sit after dinners in silence, with no third voice chiming into their tense conversation.

He was helpless.

He was useless.

He _really _needed this smoke.

But the _bitch _was holding it an arms-length away. "I'm making it my business," she said, her tone somewhat snide yet, if he had cared to listen, concerned.

But he didn't listen.

"You don't have to." He held out his hand again.

She laughed humourlessly as, this time, she batted it away.

"You're not getting this."

"Are you a _kid_?"

"Are _you?_" she shot back testily before pocketing the cigarettes. His eyes followed them before they dragged back to her. She was angry, furious, heavy lines creased into her forehead as she drew herself up to full height. "You're going about this the wrong way, Shikamaru."

"Trying to use my first name to get to me?"

"_Listen to yourself!_" Her voice made him wince but the fire and the claws and the _anxiety_ was _tearing _at him. If she would just lay off, if she would just give him _one_, maybe, maybe he could calm the storm that was his heart and _maybe _they could discuss this like rational beings. But his body ached for more nicotine, more poison to soothe his demons away.

Yet her pocket bulged with the weight of his cigarettes.

"You're getting hooked for the wrong reasons," she murmured, her voice soft but it still felt like daggers in his ears. Her hand touched his shoulder and he nearly recoiled – he fought every instinct that screamed at him to jump back and attack, the antsy unease that had grown from a faint feeling to one that was threatening to overwhelm him. Her hand ran down his arm, leaving shivers and chills. "I think we should talk."

But he _didn't want to_.

He didn't want to talk. He didn't want to tell her how he wanted to cry, wail like a baby about losing his father, his mentor, being responsible for lives he couldn't even count on one hand. For the losses and the stress of leadership that had left him scarred, that kept him up at night and would feel like ants were crawling on his body. He didn't want to accept these feelings when he could wash it all away with a drag of a cigarette. He didn't want to talk it out like he needed therapy because he _didn't_, he just needed one. _One. _One and maybe when his mind was calm and no longer scratching hollowly on tattered walls, like the grating of nails against chalkboards, would he be able to talk.

But he would cry. He would cry and sob and scream over how it was so unfair for him, unfair for a seventeen year old to shoulder so much responsibility even though he signed up for it, and just because he was a genius didn't mean he could handle all of this. He didn't want Temari, of all fucking people, _Temari, _to be the one soothing him and telling him it's okay. He wanted his father. He wanted his father who had promised him that he'd pick up the pieces, except his father wasn't there and was _dead_. Who was going to pick up the pieces now? Who? Not his mother, who almost seemed lethargic which made _no fucking sense_ because she was _crazy_. Not Temari, who had already seen him cry once and who felt _pity_ for him – which wasn't what he wanted, he didn't want pity.

He wanted a cigarette.

He was ready to take it by force from her – his mind had already devised methods to get them from her. But the more he went without it the more his anxiety grabbed each idea, dragging it down into the pits of nothingness. He wanted to rip them from her, he wanted to kiss her and make her gasp so she'd lower her guard and he'd take them from her. He didn't even know what he wanted anymore – just the nicotine. But she held her stance, her hand still on his arm, his arm which felt ice cold and numb save for the soft pulses of her skin – contact he had longed for but now he loathed, because it wasn't the same.

Her eyes softened – fucking _softened_ – as she lifted her hand. "You don't need them."

"You don't understand," he tried, his voice cracking. He didn't even realize there were tears, rolling down his cheeks. He didn't even know why he was crying, perhaps it was the anxiety, the trauma. Maybe it was his father's last words echoing through his mind, a record on repeat as he felt nothing the first time he heard them, though Ino had teared beside him. Maybe it was the looping vision of Asuma, his face battered and blood oozing from his mouth, the light fading from his eyes as he felt the same nothingness. Perhaps it was the helplessness he wasn't allowed to feel during the war as he watched comrades he was in charge of fall, one by one, and he could do nothing but surge forward, ignoring the cries and throes of pain as he pushed forward.

Shinobi are tools.

He was a tool.

"Just. Give me. A damn. _Cigarette._"

The package hit him upside the head, Temari's eyes dancing with rage and frustration as she whipped the package at him. It fell into a sad heap onto the ground, label facing up, as the blonde glared.

"Fine. _Fine. _Have a damn cigarette. Push me away, you _dick. You asshole. _I'm trying to _help you_." He doesn't see her own frustrated tears through his own, her yelling hollow in his head as he bent down. She probably kicked him – he didn't really know – instead he emptily reached for the package that was by their feet. "You _always_ do this. You wait until your daddy comes to cheer you the _fuck_ up. Grow _up. He's not here anymore!"_ Her voice had risen to a yell, her voice pushing to cracking as her hands curled into a fist. He wanted her to stop. His head was pounding and he felt like he was being burned alive, the scratching in his brain distinctively louder and achingly painful as he turned the package over. He needed the nicotine. His body craved the nicotine. The demons clawed at him, climbing up his legs, his chest, his arms, his _neck,_ pushing onto his adam's apple as they reached, scratched, grasped for the release of the drug.

Her voice came through foggy, as if she were shouting from the top of a water tank, muffled by her own frustration.

"I'm trying to help you, but you clearly have no interest."

...

He didn't know how long he remained there, fingers fumbling with the package. But by the time he had regained some form of his senses, she was gone.

Finally.

He could have a smoke.

He shook the package and one, thin rod shimmied to the opening. He pulled it out, turning it slowly in his hand.

He tried to light it. He really did.

But he couldn't stop the tears from his eyes, nor the sobs that broke past his lips as the cigarette fell limply onto the ground.


	8. Chapter 8

_Something lighthearted to balance what I gave you guys last time. _

_To clarify, the line of dialogue in my prompt was what I used as the conversation starter._

_Temari-centric because there isn't enough Shikatema from her perspective. _

_enjoy!_

.::[::]::.

[I'd really to see your take on Shikamaru's reaction to hearing about Daimaru. Like maybe dryly telling Temari "So. I heard a zombie confessed to you." or something like that XD]

She seriously couldn't believe they were having this conversation.

Would he hate her if she smacked him out of the air with her fan?

Because as they were travelling from locations A to B, it wasn't even the question he asked that caught her offguard. It was his _tone. _As she pushed off from one tree to the next (she still wasn't the best at this, at least not as good as Konoha nin), the stupid pineapple head was steadily keeping pace with her. Normally she wouldn't care _too _much but she knew he was doing it on purpose – he can and _has _gone far ahead of her. His voice wasn't even really imploring, not quite teasing, just dry, like his fucking sense of humour.

Humour at the expense of others, she thought furiously, as words and sentences came to her head like a twist of a faucet but none seemed quite adequate enough for her to respond with. She focused on the rhythmic _tak_ as she gathered her strength into her haunches, springing forward before she absorbed too much impact.

_Tak._

She instead tried to swallow the bile (and embarrassment) that was beginning to make its way into her thoughts. She seriously was beginning to wonder about his tone – calculatingly light. Or maybe she was overthinking. _Ugh_. Who _told _him? Matsuri?

_I'm gonna flay her_, she thought with venom, trying to ignore the (snide? She didn't care, he was _dead anyway)_ look he gave her. She turned her eyes forward, nearly missing the next branch that was supposed to be her target.

_Tak._

He was being patient, but a _stupid_ kind of patient, as if he was baiting her out. Correction: he _was_ baiting her.

He also probably knew that she couldn't turn it down.

As usual, he was right.

"Ugh, can you stop _staring _at me like that?" she growled, putting a bit too much force into her next stride as the wood splintered underneath her. She didn't dare look but she could _sense_ that fucking smirk on his face, though he tried to pass it off as disinterested riling she could also feel he was genuinely interested. She felt heat prickling her spine as she fought between embarrassment for both _that _situation and the fact he was even asking about it. She didn't ever expect Nara, of all people, to be imploring like this. It was just so tiresome – and he called _her_ troublesome?

It only took five more seconds of frustration before she bit back a growl, which came out more as a loud, exasperated sigh. "Matsuri?"

"Yukata."

"Bitch," she seethed, though she could see a patient, of not, somewhat amused, smile spread on his lips. She ignored this, however, putting all her energy one more jump, praying that this stride pushed her ahead of the stupid Konoha nin.

To her frustration, though, he kept easy pace beside her. His tone was still calculating indifferent, and infuriatingly so. "And?"

_Tak._

"Can't you let this one go?"

_Tak. _

"I _could_."

_Tak._

For once, she wished he would just resume being the lazy ass that she knew him as. He seemed unusually interested and it kind of _bothered_ her. She swallowed back a blush that was fighting its way to her face, especially as she could tell that, though he was aloof, his eyes were curiously trained onto her. She sighed. When she opened her mouth, she couldn't help the words that tumbled forward. "Look, it was an old friend. Yes, he's dead. And I turned him down faster than I could blink."

_Tak._

He seemed satisfied with that because he suddenly lost interest, instead flying in step beside her. With each bound, she couldn't help but to wonder what had spurred that on – it wasn't often, or ever, really, that he would be so forward with it. Maybe he was just trying to piss her off. (That happened a lot, especially recently.)

So it was her turn to have fun now.

"Why do you care so much?" her eyes narrowed and she could almost stop the next phrase from spilling out of her mouth. _Almost. _"Were you feeling threatened, crybaby?"

_Tak._

She could distinctively hear a '_Tch_' as the Konoha-nin suddenly bounded past her, leaving him behind. She blinked, watching his back get smaller and smaller, and she couldn't help her own smirk from spreading on her lips. _He's like an open book._

He was quickly gaining speed and she rolled her eyes. As he tried to get away she couldn't help but call out: "Aren't you going to call me troublesome?"

His lack of a response was enough to amuse her for the rest of their trip.


	9. Chapter 9

_Been a while since i've updated._

_I've written more stuff but I've been busy with my two BANGs and summer school. Sorry!_

_Light-hearted comedy this time around. Poor Shikamaru._

.::[::]::.

[shikatema fic prompt! Temari and Yoshino meet. Shikamaru is absolutely terrified.]

He tried to stop her. He really did. But the crazy woman merely pushed aside his restricting arm, dodged around him as he lunged forward in a last ditch attempt to physically restrain her, and instead opened the screen door with such a ferocity that we winced, and then winced again as her heard his mother's shout of _Who's there?!_ echoing throughout the Nara estate.

This was going to be hell.

He was going to die.

He, Shikamaru Nara, was going to _die. _

Granted it's not like he hadn't talked about Temari before; she had all but pried information out of him during dinners about his escort. He thought he made it very clear that she was a _mission. _But then again, his mother was insane: his protests, for all he knew, fell onto deaf ears as she got it in her head that she was something else.

Why, oh why did he have to mention her to Temari?

Because when the blonde replied with a terrifyingly-similar screech of greeting, he knew was in for a ride.

One he'd most likely not enjoy.

At all.

He saw her black hair first as his mother rushed towards the source of the sound, before the woman skidded into their door step with a beaming smile on her face. Her eyes widened as her dark brown eyes raked over the Suna-nin's frame, her tanned skin and rather voluptuous body a rarer sight within the Land of Fire. Shikamaru stared, a little concerned over what might come out of his mother's mouth – knowing her track record, she'd probably say something to offend the sand-nin and all hopes of a peaceful dinner would be thrown out the window.

However, in hindsight, perhaps he would rather have an insult than whatever the hell it was that came out of her mouth.

"Temari-san, right?" He couldn't help but to flinch as his mother immediately clasped her hands on the kunoichi's shoulders in a strangely over familiar manner. The look in said kunoichi's eyes seemed to reflect his own sentiments. "I've heard so much about you from my son – _Shikamaru,_" she barked, the shadow-nin jumping as her tone whiplashed from warm and welcoming to icily cold, "put away our guest's shoes and get some tea going, why don't you?"

He sighed in defeat, knowing there was no way to win against his mother. The blonde shot him a look, no longer confused but more _amused_, her eyes twinkling with laughter as her lips curved into a smirk before the dark-haired mother of his lead her further into the estate. _They're gonna have a field day,_ he thought with exasperation as he arranged Temari's shoes neatly along the edge of the ledge of the Tatami. _I might as well kiss any dignity I had goodbye. _

The two were already in the kitchen, his mother engaging the blonde in conversation, words fading into background noise to him as he tried to make his appearance as minimal as possible. He shuffled over to the kettle and turned it on, the water already inside sloshing as he pulled out some cups to make the tea in.

"I wasn't aware he talked about me that much."

He froze.

_God damn it,_ he mulled as he threw tea bags into the mugs. He could hear both of their laughter – high pitched and so freaking _girly _that it made his blood curl. Hell, he didn't even know Temari _could _be girly – all he ever got out of her was a tongue-lashing and sharp, witty humour that was often at his expense.

He set down the cups before the two most fearsome women in his life and tried his best to escape before too much damage was done. But a scary, iron grip caught his hastily retreating forearm and if it weren't due to Yoshino being closer he probably would not have been able to tell who's hand it was. "Where do you think you're going, young man?" Her voice had suddenly drained of all earlier humour (and kindness, which admittedly, was still kind of scary to even entertain the possibility of his mother possessing sucha quality) and instead much darker and commanding.

He gulped. "Nowhere."

His mother flashes him a humourless smile as he sat down beside the blonde, who was chuckling not-at-all-inconspicuously into the back of her hand, not even bothering to disguise it as a fit of coughs. "I should try that on him sometime," she commented, humour colouring her tone as she lightly knocked her knee against his. He wasn't at all amused.

He really, _really, _didn't want to be sitting here right now.

His mother flashed Temari another warm smile. "It works on all Nara men," she said nonchalantly, picking up the mug and taking a hearty sip. She put down her mug and gave a scarily-toothy grin. _That is a smile of a killer_, Shikamaru thought subconsciously as he rubbed the back of his head with his hand. "You should've seen his father when he tried to get away from me the first time."

Mortification was not a strong enough word to describe what he was feeling.

As their laughter pricked like needles into his spine, Temari turned and gave him a hearty pat on the back. "He knows he can't escape from me, crybaby."

He half wished his mother would at least rebut her for insulting her son.

But instead she was nodding sagely.

He sunk himself further into his seat, trying to swallow the redness that must've begun to creep onto his cheeks.

"I'm surprised he hadn't brought you home sooner," his mother continued conversationally. The blonde only grinned in response.

"He said didn't really want us two together in the same room."

Mortification _definitely _was too light of a word as his mother's eyes steeled at her words, her eyebrow twitching. _Why would you say that, _he mouthed to the Sand kunoichi, who definitely registered the words but merely ignored him. "He said he could only handle one of us, or something."

"_Hah_, if neither of my boys had anyone to push them I swear they'd just be lying around all da-"

"_Troublesome,_" He couldn't help but to snarl. He needed to get out of here, and fast. Temari was obviously enjoying herself, and, what was arguably worse, so was his mother. He ignored Temari's sound of protest and barely managed to dodge his mother's iron grip, though her glare and sharp _"Shikamaru!" _not lost on his senses.

He half expected his mother to come stomping after him, give him a loud scolding in front of the Sand kunoichi (though she would probably find it amusing) and then proceed to berate him on how to be a good boyfriend – as if his father ever was.

He knew who wore the pants in _their _relationship.

But instead, he didn't hear the thundering footsteps of his approaching doom.

What she next said, although partially obscured by the screen barrier, was much worse.

"He'll be back, unless he wants to starve tonight."

Realistically, he'd actually much rather go with the second option.


	10. Chapter 10

_I forgot where I left off when uploading these. I have a lot to catch up to. _

_Humour._

..::[::]::..

_[Shikatema prompt: Temari is invited to her first girls night by Ino, which prompts the boys to get a table near them to spy (see Shippuden ep.232). Then, when things get too detailed about their relationship, an embarrassed Shikamaru drags Temari home. ]_

She really didn't know why she was here.

But there was something endearing in the way Ino had knocked on her door at six am that morning (because something about her guide wouldn't be awake at the time – she didn't blame the Konoha-nin; she was entirely right) and had invited her to their girls-night-out. She wasn't entirely sure what the whole hush hush was about – but maybe it was more of a cultural difference, seeing as Ino was at least treated like a girl. (There was more to say about Suna politics but she kept most of it to herself.)

When she found herself seated in the barbeque restaurant, she was soon so enveloped by such _girlish chatter _that she sunk further into her seat and picked at one of the meats grilling in front of her. She didn't really do well with these crowds – after all, raising two brothers only furthered her tomboy personality along with her lack of female friends. But she had to give it to the girls – they weren't exactly girly (they might have been three or four years ago, not so much now) but they knew how to keep up idle conversation.

"-and remember during the chuunin exams, when you guys faced each other?"

"Yeah. I seriously hated you back then."

"_Details._ What I want to talk about is another match that was interesting, hmm, _Temari?_"

She choked on her water.

She should've known the blonde had some kind of ulterior motive.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said evasively, closing her eyes and instead focusing on downing another mouthful of water _without _choking this time. When reached over to flip the meat, she noted the two girls exchanging a pointed look (even though Hyuuga shrunk into her seat and pigtailed buns-girl aggressively stabbed another piece of pork into her chopsticks) before they turned back to her.

"You know what we're talking about," prompted Ino, "you and Shikamaru."

Temari took a slow breath, disguising her exhale into her glass, though it betrayed her as the insides fogged. "What do you want to know?" she asked humourlessly, though the Konoha-nin did _not _pick up on her sour tone and instead launched in enthusiastically.

"Idunno, just asking about how you two are doing, and all," she replied, her voice innocent but at the same time, scarily testy, as if she had done these interrogations before.

She narrowed her eyes. "I don't know what to tell you," she responded indignantly, trying to make sure her cheeks didn't turn red. Luckily they hadn't served her alcohol – that would definitely had gotten her talking – instead she was just able to maintain her dignity, raising her head and continuing, "he's my guide, that's all there is to it."

The looks the girls exchanged were eerily accusatory, snide, and even amused. "Are you sure," asked the blonde, her voice almost shrill with excitement, "Shikamaru doesn't wake up for anyone – not even training-"

But before Temari could shoot back a biting retort, the table next to them squeaked. They had their privacy curtain drawn for obvious reasons, but she could still hear snickers from the other side, along with a hassled and familiar sigh.

She smirked.

He just couldn't stay away, as usual.

Temari wasn't one to reveal her love life to other people, let alone other Konoha women who were familiar with the man she was intimate with. Then again, opportunities like these rarely presented themselves, and who was she not to take advantage of them? She contemplated how much she should reveal, if only to punish him for daring to eavesdrop on her little outing. Though she hardly thought it was to his own volition – he was probably in the same boat as hers, dragged out by another loud and enthusiastic blond.

And though the girl's voices dropped considerably (the pink-haired medic nin looking _particularly _ticked off when she put two and two together), Temari said, this time a little louder, "I guess you're right. I don't know why he arrives as early as I do to some of our meetings."

From the outside, absolute silence. A couple of sniggers broke out before they were cut off abruptly.

Ino leaned in. "And?"

"And nothing," she said, louder still, "he makes it so we act like we don't acknowledge each other's existence." She watched the blonde's face fall before she smirked, threw back her head, and called, "But when we get back to my place, oh boy, lemme tell ya, he is _great in be-_" Their privacy curtain all but ripped from its hinges as the dark-haired shadow nin shoved the innocent white fabric to the side, his cheeks flaming but his eyes narrowed.

"Shika-" Ino's voice cut out as one hand swiftly covered hers, the other grabbing Temari by the collar and pulling her off the seat.

"Not cool," he hissed, his breath tickling her ear.

Thank _God _they didn't give her alcohol, or even that would have probably reduced her to a bumbling mess.

"I thought I'd fill in the gaps since you obviously left Ino out of the loop," she replied slyly, to which he sighed.

"_Troublesome," _he hissed, though he snagged his fingers into her fabric and began to drag her away.

"I'll fill you in next time," she called cheerfully to Ino, who could only watch, dumbfounded, as she let the man drag her off their booth and out of the restaurant.


	11. Chapter 11

[Stop talking like you can marry me whenever you feel like it.]

She shifted a little beside him, her hair brushing his cheek as she swatted restlessly at a fly that buzzed just as lazily as he felt. He was used to the quiet buzzing, but evidently in the desert, it was something she had to adjust to. The buzzing suddenly silenced as she all but snatched the innocent insect out of the sky, crushing it in her fist.

She was a terrifying woman indeed.

"You were saying?" she said almost innocently as she wiped her palm against the grass. Shikamaru sighed – although Temari eventually started joining him on cloud-watching sessions, she was as restless as ever. It was like she didn't know that the objective was to _sit_ and _relax_. Even though she lay opposite of him, her head by his but otherwise her body sticking in the other direction, her (jerky and guarded) movements exactly the opposite of soothing.

He rolled his eyes. "Nothing," he muttered. His gaze followed another cloud drifting lazily by, though he heard her shifting once more. Impatience spiked along his spine – can't the woman just sit still – and he blinked reflexively as her blonde hair scratched his cheek.

"You were saying something." Her voice was testy, curt, not at all soothing or calming. It completely broke the mood of the scene, though it wasn't exactly jarring or unwelcome – just _different – _a different he was getting used to. "Don't let me stop you."

He snorted, and even she chuckled too. "I _was _saying what I want out of life."

"Do go on."

Her voice was light, teasing, closer to his ear than he expected, but out of his peripheral he could see that she had turned her head towards his.

Shikamaru shifted once more, tucking a forearm underneath his head and another resting lightly on his stomach. "Well, after I become the Hokage's advisor-"

She erupted into a derisive snort – a rough, brash sound that wasn't at all cute but yet somehow _womanly_. She coughed once and swallowed. "-sorry," she said, not quite sounding sorry at all,

He carried on anyway, "- I would settle down with a girl." His mind said the next words for him – that is, _a regular girl, not too ugly or too pretty _– but somehow they stuck to his tongue, refusing to escape his lips. He didn't dwell on it too hard (he already suspected he knew why he didn't want to say them, anyway) and launched on. "Get married, have two children."

"Sounds like the life," Temari sighed, though her voice was muffled as she turned her head back upright, her hair scratching against the dirt and grass. His fingers drummed his abdomen, another cloud lazily drifting by. She suddenly swallowed and her voice sharpened. "But idealistic, isn't it?" He felt wind brush by his ear. Surprise caused him to sit up, the Sand shinobi mirroring his movements, and they stared at each other.

"You're a shinobi, Shikamaru. You don't know if you'll even come back tomorrow."

"Aren't you pragmatic," he muttered, and though her eyes narrowed momentarily, she flopped back down, the moment passing.

"I'm just saying," she said, her voice still brash but he could tell she was trying to be bracing. He lowered himself back down, their black melting into blonde as their cheeks brushed.

They fell into a comfortable silence, his mind still buzzing, though the soft breeze had lulled the two. Just as he felt his eyes droop, he felt slim yet calloused fingers tangle into his hair. It was comforting - an offer of apology.

"Two children, one girl, one boy. Preferably the girl is born first. I'd retire…" his voice dropped though his mind still raced, his vision blurring from focused to unfocused. "Spend the days with my wife… listening to her yell at people… mainly our son…" he yawned. "She'd be the scariest kunoichi, even though she's not even a Konoha native…"

But before his eyes fully shut, he winced and growled in pain as the fingers in his hair suddenly tensed and pulled. "_Oy,_" her voice was cutting, almost a little bemused. His mind caught up to his voice as his head whipped towards her.

Their eyes met and he swore, for the umpteenth time, even _she _could hear his heart pound.

"Stop talking like you can marry me whenever you feel like it," Temari seethed, though the anger didn't reach her eyes. Whilst her voice was scathing, it was also slightly teasing. In his sleepy stupor, he felt his head swimming in that brilliant teal. But then she blinked and the contact was broken. "Seriously. Unlike you I don't want to settle down so fast."

"Ever the pragmatist," he teased as his vision blurred once more. She was close, too close, his body still feeling tired as the enticement of sleep was almost too much to pass up. "I'm a dreamer, remember?"

She clicked her tongue and she rolled her eyes, though he almost missed the motion. She called him something but the specifics were lost to his sleepy ears, Fingers danced along his forearm, which, decidedly, was now his pillow, the movements soft and soothing along his skin.

Sure, he was a dreamer, but it was pretty much inevitable.

They were dating, after all.


	12. Chapter 12

[shikatema, he catches her sneaking one of his cigarettes. ]

The first give away was the smell of smoke, just a faint trace in the night sky.

The second was his cigarette holder, knocked on its side with one of the white rolls missing.

The third, and most obvious clue, was the absent, still slightly warm, spot beside him in his bed.

He sat up, letting the thicker sheets slide down his body and pool around his abdomen. It was _too _early to be up, so of course this was when she'd decide to disappear with one of his cigarettes. Groggily, he rolled to his side and pulled the drawer attached to the bedside table open. The silver lighter was absent. _Freaking troublesome woman, _he couldn't help but to think, his hand combing through knotted black hair as he pulled himself upright. He pulled his hair into a lazy ponytail and plucked one more cigarette from the holder.

He reluctantly slid his legs out of his bed, the coldness of the _tatami _mat unwelcome against his feet. Why did she have to be so anal about this? He sighed and pulled on the boxer briefs that laid discarded on the floor. His mouth cracked into a yawn before he could stop himself. Now that he was upright, there was _definitely _a trace of smoke in the air.

Crazy woman.

Now that his eyes had readjusted, he could make out the stillness of the night. His normally tanned walls seemed to be a dark blue, the covers of his sheets normally green only looked like a dark brown. He rubbed his eyes.

What an ungodly hour to be awake.

He stumbled forward, hand groping to feel for the screen door that separated his room from the patio. Cold steel under his palm, it slid open with one languid pull, the smell of the crisp autumn air filling his nostrils with every deep inhale.

There she was, her outline illuminated by the glow of moonlight. He could see her figure, slim but not offputtingly so, leaning against the wooden banister. He could see the curve of her back, the line that ran through and down to the tip of her lingerie. Her hair, normally held up, fell down her back in surprisingly straight layers. His fingers itched with the phantom feeling of the night before, when he had ran his hand through her tresses, surprisingly silkier than he had expected.

She turned her head, her lips parted as a cloud of smoke lazily blew out.

She was a goddess in her own right, he thought.

She didn't say a word as he approached her silently, the back of his finger tracing her shoulder blade. She ignored him as she raised the cigarette back to her lips, nor did he attempt to stop her, really. Instead, he let his finger follow the curve of her back, letting it linger for a moment around her lower back before he withdrew.

"You're not mad?" she asked. Her voice wasn't raised nor challenging, just a mere question in a tone that he had only recently started to get accustomed to.

"I wouldn't've been able to stop you, anyway," he breathed. He could feel her shiver as his hand cupped her biceps, the breath she let out lidded with something more than smoke. She pressed herself back, skin turned cold from the night sky pressing against his own in a satisfying manner. He dipped her head back onto his shoulder, her eyes closed in contentment. They stayed there a while, listening to the faint sounds of crickets in the lazy breeze, smelling the faint trail of smoke that rose languidly from the cigarette she grasped between two fingers.

He pushed his nose into her hair, inhaling the smell of his own bed, mixed with the lingering scent of flowers. "I was more freaked out that you weren't in bed," he admitted into the curve of her neck. He could feel the vibrations as she chuckled.

"Why, that I wouldn't be there to protect you?"

His arms snaked around her waist and he pulled her even closer as she gasped, nearly dropping her stolen cigarette. He planted a kiss along her jawline, though she stubbornly turned her head away as soon as his lips left her skin to take another drag. As she blew the smoke away from them, he couldn't help but to admire the way the moon shone against her profile, highlighting her skin, her lips, her vibrant teal eyes that he to this day had not found anything more breathtaking.

She turned back to him, her lips twisted into a smirk as she stubbed out her cigarette against the ashtray that he'd just noticed was balancing on the railing. "Are we going back to bed?" she asked, her own hands caressing his as she nuzzled her nose into his neck.

But he raised his own cigarette to his lips and extended his neck forward, his chin skimming against her soft shoulders. She gave him a reluctant look but he gave her a side-stare until she sighed. She let go of one of his hands, taking the silver lighter and flicking it open. He lit his cigarette in the small, dying flame it produced, using one palm to hold both her hands against her abdomen as he reached up and exhaled.

"You're lucky I love you," said his long-time girlfriend.

"Whatever you say," he responded as took another drag.


	13. Chapter 13

[Shikatema Prompt! Just after the war's ended, while everyone's recovering, Ino overhears Shikamaru's dream. Horribly embarrassing matchmaking ensues- from teasing to dropping hints to making Shikamaru and Temari share a medical tent.]

Late prompt fill is late

"So, why am I in this tent with you?"

He sighed.

Where does he begin?

Well, he could, theoretically, start with that earsplitting _squeal. _He knew Ino was a girl and was full of surprising and suspect sounds but he didn't anticipate the _caterwaul _that erupted from her mouth. _Girls _– he should have known Ino was listening in when he _thought _he was privately confiding with Choji about the details of his dream.

And yet as his voice was low (even for him) and he was trying to tell his best friend about how he was aware, apparently, so was the blonde as she had burst between them, grabbed his hands, and positively bounced up and down, saying she wanted to help.

He didn't _need_ help, he had sighed, but the words (as always) flew over her head as she shook his captive hand with such vigor that he felt as if his arm had somehow morphed into a noodle. "I got you, I got you," she had repeated, her voice slowly going from excited to sly, a change that had Shikamaru very, _very_ nervous.

So the blonde had tailed him all day even as he was checking in with the ninjas he was in charge of, like an unwanted shadow, loudly muttering nice things to do for her. Things like, "maybe you should check on her, she might appreciate that" to "you know, you should go visit _her _or something." He briefly contemplated setting the record straight, grabbing Ino by the shoulders, and just explaining how _none of those ideas would work_, but that was much too troublesome and, knowing the blonde, would do close to nothing to dissuade her.

And when her eyes lit up, he frowned as her lips curved into a cross between a smirk and grin as she clapped his hands together between hers (just the action already had him recoiling). She had patted him on the shoulders. "Go to the medical tent."

Here they were.

Temari's lip curled as she sat down on the prop-up bed tucked into the corner. "Seriously – my injuries aren't bad at all." Her arms folded over her chest (he tried to ignore the shifting of _other_) and her tongue clicked. "but the Konoha medical-nins all but shoved me in here."

"How peculiar," he replied, trying to keep his voice steady. _God damn it Ino, _he thought rather viciously, _why do you like to do this with me…_

He sat down on the other bed, sighing again, shrugging off the flak jacket before discarding it on the middle of the floor. "We like to be thorough," he added as he steepled his fingers together, elbows resting on his knees. Temari's eyebrow raised but a chuckle escaped her lips, a low, rather harsh sound, not nearly as earpleasing as the other bouts of laughter he had heard from other girls in his village. And yet, whilst it wasn't the most pleasant of sounds, there was a roughness and toughness to it that touched him in ways any other laughter wouldn't have been able to.

_So this is what's like to be whipped_, he grimaced, though her chuckles died down and she cleared her throat, he couldn't help but to notice as she drew one leg over another, creamy thighs rubbing together as she sat up. "You've always been, ah, quite thorough, haven't you?"

Her voice - still sharp, still laced with suspicion – somehow seemed quieter, almost fond, as her lips softened into a smile. It was a smile he realized he was somewhat used to seeing nowadays, just the small upturn of his lips somehow satisfying and fulfilling. It was a smile just meant for him, or maybe he was monopolizing – overthinking, as he was prone to doing. But her blue eyes weren't steeled nor hard, just relaxed, as if she were at ease when she was around him. He hoped so, at least.

He smirked. "Always two steps ahead."

And then her stance shifted as the double-entendre wasn't lost to her: rather her eyelids fluttered and redness touched her cheeks for the briefest of seconds. His mind flew to the implications – what was _her _dream? Was it similar to his? Was he in her dream? What was going through her mind?

He felt that weird magnetic feeling again – where he was drawn to her, where he found himself leaning forward over his steepled fingers and he was about to roll onto his feet and sit beside her. In fact the only thing _stopping _him from doing that was his own conscience, kicked back into gear as it screamed at him to think – try to stop _acting _upon his urges and just be rational – something he never had a problem with.

It was that stupid, stupid dream.

But she was leaning forward too, the dusting of red still present in her face as her eyes clouded – clouded but seemed somewhat vulnerable as her walls fell in pieces around her. She seemed somewhat abashed, her stance still somewhat withheld as opposed to oppressive, and for those fleeting moments, he realized that – whilst Temari was a hardass – she was still a girl.

A girl who liked flowers, took care of her brothers, handled relations between their two nations with such superiority that he almost forgot about how much responsibility she had always shouldered.

But the fragile moment shattered as the curtain drew back with violence.

"Sooooo _Temari,_" was the horribly perky voice, the two of them jumping and straightening, Shikamaru trying to hide the sudden rush of heat that flew to his head. _Oh God. _The blonde burst into their tent, her overly familiar tone also apparent in her stance as she threw her a _very_ wide smile. "You know, my boy Shikamaru here a real romantic type-"

He groaned and buried his head into the nearby pillow.

But Temari's voice sharply reverted back to its scathing quality, any trace of fondness painfully banished from her tone as she replied testily, "Oh _really_?"

And then Ino began to yammer her head off, whatever she was saying he wasn't even _sure_ was true about him though he had to admit, it wasn't a _terrible _effort of "selling" him. Either way, he just wanted her to leave, and seeing Temari's face, he almost laughed as it was a mixture of fury, mortification, and annoyance.

"Okay Ino, you can stop now," he murmured.

"- long walks on the beach, that kind of guy –"

"I'm not one for that," Temari replied testily, the konoha-nin silencing nearly instantaneously. Now she had shifted forward, her eyes flashing dangerously as she palmed her weapon, resting against the bedframe. "In fact, I'm much more for the fiercely action kind of guy." As Ino sputtered, her eye caught his and there was something aloof and teasing about it – challenging, like the troublesome woman she was.

His teammate was by his side, him barely registering as she whispered: "I have flowers outside, the ones she like – I asked Kankuro – so you know, you can give them to her when you get a chance –"

"Point of interest, still here," Temari deadpanned as Shikamaru slapped a hand over the kunoichi's mouth. He spun the blonde around with ease before all but shoving the ninja out the door.

"I don't need help," he hissed, but Ino shrugged and gave him a knowing look. He groaned – she knew him too well – but he narrowed his eyes anyway. "Okay, maybe in that sense, but start moving." The blond shot him another look but she complied, marching away whilst positively seething.

He let out another breath, not a sigh but more of a groan, as he turned to go back into the tent. His eye suddenly caught a colourful explosion set off to the side – a bouquet of beautifully arranged flowers awaiting him. He grimaced – leave it to Ino to create the most intricate of bouquets – but as he stared, he noted the roses. Flowers, yes, but barbed and dangerous, but yet the most beautiful of them all; for they were different, unique, sly, full of life –

"_Get your ass back in here, Nara!" _

- And ridiculously scary, he sighed, as he swallowed his quickly-retreating dignity. One might even say they (and she, by extension) were troublesome.


End file.
